


The Young Dynamos Are Disaster Gays: SuperTrouper

by HolodeckProgram1701



Category: Mamma Mia! (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 17:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15756354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolodeckProgram1701/pseuds/HolodeckProgram1701
Summary: With Donna in Greece with baby Sophie, and Rosie in Wales looking after an ill grandmother, Tanya’s been trying to live the adventurous life they’d imagined for themselves. But a surprise visitor at her latest gig shines a light on how she’s really fared for the past 10 months.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic kidnapped me for a week and made me write it. To the point that I didn't even go online other than to Google things like "Gosh, did do radiators work if the power goes out?! When were flashlights invented? What the eff did Glasgow look like in the 70s?!" And that got very tedious, so if you're like "Hey, wait a minute, that doesn't make SENSE" you're probably right and just roll with it. Especially about singing and free diving...one day I will better research both things!
> 
> Also: I don't think I've ever posted above a T rating before so uh, this is awkward! And probably not as M-rated as some would like but I felt T was a little disingenuous so...going with M. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Own nothing, just for fun. Song lyrics are from ABBA's "Super Trouper" with one line changed from "there" to "here" for the purpose of the fic. Cheers. 
> 
> p.s. Looking forward to catching up with the tag later tonight, I saw new works! AHHHHHH!!!!! :D

“Curtain in two minutes.” 

“Thanks Tim” Tanya calls. 

“Not that anyone really cares,” she says to her reflection in the mirror. The dimly lit, cramped bathroom she had put her costume on in was no theater. Her grand stage the past three weeks on Tuesdays was a second-tier bar in Glasgow. Her stage manager was the bar keeper, and her audience were mostly university students a little younger than herself. A few years ago she wouldn’t have minded a gig like this. It would have been exciting, another step towards becoming a real singer. But this year…Tanya turns away from the mirror.

Walking up the narrow steps from the bathroom, she pauses as she draws level with the main floor to take in tonight’s crowd. The previous band, a Swedish quartet, is finishing up a lively number that has the crowd clapping along. Elbow-to-elbow, there’s hardly a place left to stand tonight. Despite the proximity, there’s no sign of tempers flaring. All in all, it’s a great group. Perfect, even. Tanya waits to feel the excitement kick in. But she only feels her stomach sink. 

She clenches her hand. For the last 2 weeks, no matter how perfect the crowd, or how great she looked or sounded, her head just wasn’t in the right place to enjoy performing. And she knew what was wrong with her. But there was no cure. 

“Message for you, Tanya,” comes a brusque voice from above her. The Saturday night waitress tilts her head toward the phone. 

“I can’t, I’m on in a minute,” Tanya declines, not bothering to look. 

“Your friend is very insistent. I’ll have ABBA play this again one more time, looks like no one would mind,” the waitress suggests.

“Just take a message for me, please. If I speak to someone right now I’ll throw up,” Tanya says flatly. 

“Got it,” agrees the waitress. There’s a note of sympathy in her voice that Tanya finds that she frankly deserves. She deserves to not feel miserable. She didn’t deserve to have a problem that she can’t talk to her best friends about! But here she is. 

Putting a hand to her face, Tanya climbs the remaining few steps. With a wave, she indicates to the band onstage that she’ll be ready when they finish. Like every gig she’s played the last 3 weeks, Tanya will just have to relax, hold her breath, and dive past the crushing despair. 

That’s all, she tells herself firmly. Just pretend that you’re not totally shattering inside! Give 'em showmanship! Breathe in! Tanya breathes until her the air is pushing firmly against her lower stomach. Deliberately, she continues to onto her breath instead of exhaling. She begins to count. One, two, three…

Andrei, a sponge diver, had introduced Tanya to free diving in Greece. Aside from it being obnoxiously hot to see the fit bronzed swimmer disappear under the boat for impossibly long spans of time, only to emerge in a glittering spray of water, holding aloft sponges taken from Poseidon’s depths, the technique had also intrigued Tanya as a singer. When she and Andrei weren’t studying one another, he’d been happy to teach her the basics of how he was able to dive on just a single breath. And while her romance with Andrei had fizzled within 2 days, Tanya had maintained a habit of experimenting with her breathing. Her singing was stronger now that she paid more attention to the flow of air in her lungs; even if mentally, she felt off her game.

….fifty eight, fifty-nine, sixty. Tanya slowly exhales. She can’t control that Donna is in Greece with an infant, or that Rosie is taking care of her grandmother in Wales. But she can control her breathing. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much for the warm welcome. We’ve been ABBA! Now, if you could please show the same love to the next act tonight, the gorgeous-”

The crowd begins to hoot and holler. Tanya puts on her best stage smile. Squares her shoulders. She knows she could have booked a job in this bar with her looks alone, but she takes pride in being genuinely talented.

“The delectable-”

Tanya fights not to roll her eyes. She sees herself as a wickedly pretty girl with a brain and good pipes- surely someone sees all of that in her? Not just her looks? Fleetingly she sees an image of Donna and Rosie, smiling in a river. 

She clamps her teeth down hard. 

“Tanyaaaaa!” the introduction finishes, and the crowd applauds. 

About to step onstage, she sees the waitress hurrying towards her. So she pauses, awkwardly, until she’s able to offer Tanya a slip of paper. She takes it and glances down. It has two words: She’s back! 

Tanya holds onto the note as she struts onto the raised platform and does a twirl. She isn’t going to get her hopes up. It could not possibly be who she thinks it is. 

“DY-NA-MO! DY-NA-MITE!” comes a loud yell. 

Tanya whips her head to the left. She knows that voice.

“Rosie?” Tanya yells, searching the room.

There. 

Tanya sees her. In the far corner under the window, standing on its narrow brief ledge, awkwardly clutching onto the shoulders of those around her, perches Rosie. She waves, somewhat nervously. 

Tanya’s mouth breaks into a smile that feels like someone cut a cord to a curtain holding back the sun. “Oh,” Tanya says softly. The last time Tanya had heard from Rosie was ten months ago, after she’d first gotten to Wales to take care of her grandmother. Since then, she’d stopped calling. 

At first, the shock of Tanya’s phone calls going unreturned had made her angry. But when she’d complained to Donna about Rosie abandoning them, her best friend had awkwardly confessed over the phone that Rosie hadn’t stopped calling Donna. Just Tanya. 

That phone call had knocked all the anger out of Tanya. From then on, she’d moved into a dazed, blossoming sadness. Losing her anger opened Tanya’s heart to how much she had depended on Rosie to keep herself balanced when life took a turn. To just how many times in the day she made a comment with the expectation of getting a rise out of Rosie, or a laugh for her jokes, or just the right harmony on a melody. She didn’t know what she had said or done to alienate Rosie from her life, but she wanted an answer. 

Donna, she knew that answer- Tanya was sure of it. Why else would Donna have told her for months that Rosie was acting badly, yes, but that she needs time, and that yes, Tanya has a right to be hurt, but also, please not to hate Rosie. Please, not to hate Rosie, and to wait until she saw her again. 

So now, Tanya’s looking right at Rosie. And Donna is right. She doesn’t see what she expected: she thought Rosie would look more confident and less caring; as if Tanya had been downgraded to merely “former friend.” But in reality, Rosie looks faintly green with anxiety. As if she still cares. Tanya feels her heart ache in a dazed mix of grief and joy. 

Could she really have done something in the past that hurt Rosie? While Donna had been sympathetic to Tanya’s calls, she had also suggested that perhaps, could it be possible, that in-between chasing boys she could reflect on her own actions towards Rosie from time to time? Tanya had usually replied with ‘Well, what right did Rosie have to not call her back?’ And 'What right does that little vest-wearing Napoleon have to be too busy to speak with her best friend? To me, of all people?’ and Donna would sigh, and ask Tanya if she'd ever clearly told Rosie how she felt about her, and Tanya would sputter. Which was usually when Donna would laugh and say that she needed to tend to Sophie, but that they'd speak again tomorrow. Tanya trusted Donna Sheridan more than her own mother, so she’d tucked her heart under her arm and carried on. And whenever her fingers itched to pick up the phone and check on Rosie, she’s had a glass of wine instead. 

Now, seeing Rosie, she feels the threads of the past year's mess starting to knit together into a song. Is she brave enough to do this? Is she brave enough to keep living like this if she doesn't? The second voice sounds suspiciously like Donna. Get out of my head, Sheridan, Tanya thinks. 

“What are you singing tonight, Tanya?” interrupts a polite voice from the front of the stage. 

Tanya puts a hand to the front of her neck, startled. Any other night, the brunette would have thrown a drink straight at the face of any man who interrupted her onstage, but she recognizes this voice. A regular for the past few nights, the young banker had proven himself to be a gentlemen. Never rowdy, he liked to dance and was a fair hand at the guitar. So Tanya decides to answer him instead of showing him her teeth. 

“Well tonight, ladies and gentlemen,” she beings cautiously as she raises the microphone, “I will be singing a new composition. In fact it’s so new that” she pauses “I’m going to need to do it acapella.”

The crowd cheers. Tanya thinks it’s possible they don’t know what the term means, and sighs. Music education was so undervalued. 

“So Harry, and anyone else who plays an instrument in this room, if you’d like to pitch in as I go along...I invite you to do so,” she concludes, making eye contact with as much of the crowd as possible the with the exception of Rosie. She doesn’t think her heart can take looking at Rosie in advance. 

The crowd cheers again. 

“Without upstaging me,” she issues in a low tone, holding up a warning finger.

More cheers. 

Well then. The crowd is as warm as it’s going to get for acapella, and she’s knows she might be about to die onstage. But she wasn't a coward. And there were some things she only knew how to say through music. So here goes nothing. 

Tanya begins to stomp her boots on the floor rhythmically at a light tempo, just shy of being fast. Keeping her posture demure, she sings with her shoulders slightly downcast. 

“I was sick and tired of everything  
When I called you last night from Glasgow.  
All I do is eat and sleep and sing:  
Wishing every show was the last show-”

Tanya lifts up her slip of paper and straightens her posture. 

“So, imagine I was glad to hear you're coming-  
Suddenly I feel all right.  
And it's gonna be so different  
When I'm on the stage tonight,”

Tanya moves off the podium in a light march, swaying towards where she assumes Rosie is still located. She’s not ready to look at her. Not yet. 

“Tonight the super trouper lights are gonna find me  
Shining like the sun  
Smiling, having fun  
Feeling like a number one”

Tanya robotically begins her usual habit of flirting with the audience: making and dropping eye contact, smiling in-between vowels. As always, it’s effortless. And meaningless. Except…

“Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me  
But I won't feel blue  
Like I always do  
'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.” 

Tanya finishes the first verse on "you" with a dramatic spin and points straight at Rosie. 

She looks up. 

She’s directly in front of her former friend, and Rosie looks thrilled, which catches Tanya off-guard. Rosie is beaming at her, short hair framing a wide smile and eyes that look as thought Tanya means the world to her. 

Tanya's mouth falls open. 

She’s completely failed to brace herself for the thought that somehow, after all these confusing months, Rosie cares about her. After all, Donna had never said in their phone calls that Rosie still cared about her. Just that Tanya shouldn’t hate her! 

Rosie gestures to the people around her to help her down off the ledge, and Tanya realizes she’d been very blind. Rosie caring about her was the only thing that would have made someone as fiercely loyal and loving as Donna forgive her for the cruelty of hurting a fellow Dynamo. But if Rosie did care for her, why had she discarded her?

Tanya can’t understand it. But she’s there, automatically holding her hand out to Rosie to lean on when she makes it down to the floor. The feeling of Rosie’s hand makes Tanya feeling two-shots of whiskey warm all over. Glancing down, she sees Rosie swallow. 

Why is Rosie nervous? 

But the shorter woman recovers quickly, turning her brown eyes up to meet Tanya’s. 

“Keep going,” Rosie orders, smiling a little tightly. “I’ll follow you,” she adds, a wistful note creeping into her voice.

Confused, Tanya lets go of Rosie’s hand and dives back into the next chorus, beginning to walk a slow perimeter around the bar. 

“Facing twenty thousand of your friends  
How can anyone be so lonely?”

Tanya can’t help but look at Rosie mostly at Rosie now, instead of the crowd. She wasn’t singing this for anyone else. 

“Part of a success that never ends  
Still I'm thinking about you only.”

A guitar starts to strum. Harry might not be the most spontaneous man in the bar, but he’s clearly studied enough to follow her lead. He nods at Tanya, kind eyes hinting that he’s guessed that Tanya is out on a limb with her emotions- recklessly- and that she needs some support. Grateful, she winks at Harry on the next line.

“There are moments when I think I'm going crazy  
But it's gonna be alright,  
Everything will be so different  
When I'm on the stage tonight’”

She tips her head back toward the stage, and Rosie nods her agreement. They begin to head back towards the box; Tanya finally feeling the energy of the crowd for the first time in weeks as she begins to belt the chorus, with Rosie matching her note for note.

“Tonight the super trouper lights are gonna find me  
Shining like the sun,  
Smiling, having fun  
Feeling like a number one”

Tanya jumps slightly when the four singers of ABBA begin echoing them in harmony on the song’s key words in the refrain. But it sounds good. The patrons around the bar are all dancing now in their own way- some with their arms, others with their toes, and a few more adventurous ones dancing with a partner. Many are clapping along. 

“Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me  
But I won't feel blue  
Like I always do  
'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.” 

Despite the perfect harmony, Rosie doesn’t look at Tanya on the final line, and Tanya wonders if she’s missing the message entirely. So she decides to take the song home. 

She wants her friend back. She wants an answer. 

“Key change Harry!” Tanya yells, before she grabs Rosie’s hand and spins her so that they face one another on stage. Dropping her voice and dropping to her knee, she barges into the final verse.

“So I'll be HERE when you arrive:  
The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive,”

At this, Rosie looks touched. Before Tanya can react, she finds herself pulled from the ground by both elbows and flung forward a few inches. She's standing unsteadily: now wrapped from the waist down in warm, tight arms. 

The circulation of air in Tanya’s lungs stops.

For months, Donna’s absence in Tanya’s life as a friend and a singing partner has made Tanya hollow and small. In the wake of that loss, Rosie’s departure- a sudden train ticket with an indefinite return date and no further phone calls, just a day after they got back from Greece- left Tanya breaking at the slightest gust of wind. In Rosie’s arms now, anchored for the first time in months, Tanya feels herself die.

The person that she’d been before this mess had happened- the fearless and brazen Tanya who thought the world was her oyster and sadness was for other people- finally gives up the ghost, and departs. With a sigh, she leaves the current Tanya with the peace to feel wounded and hopeful; rather than simply empty. It's true that there's a mess the three of them have made: Donna, with a baby and no family; Rosie, with a family and down one friend; and Tanya, with a crashed dream and a missing Dynamo. 

She aches. 

But to feel something more than homesick for something that never existed, after months of trying to hold onto the ghost of Donna and the Dynamos and the life they were supposed to have together, is a relief. In Rosie’s arms, she can face this. 

Squeezing Rosie tightly, she stays wrapped around Rosie for the next verse. Inhaling now, she drops her voice slightly, trading her the aggressive belt for a warmer tone. 

“And when you take me in your arms…  
And hold me tight…  
I know it's gonna mean so much tonight,”

Rosie straightens up and meets Tanya’s gaze. Her eyes are bright- is she crying? But she smiles and takes Tanya firmly by the hand, joining her, Harry, and ABBA for the final chorus.

“Tonight the super trouper lights are gonna find me  
Shining like the sun;  
Smiling, having fun,  
Feeling like a number one.  
Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me  
But I won't feel blue-  
Like I always do-"

Gently, Tanya feels Rosie begin to maneuver her. Following her lead, Tanya allows herself to be dipped slightly down in Rosie’s arms; and there’s a terrifying thrill as Tanya realizes they’ve never done this pose before. Anything could happen. Tanya might be too tall for this. Rosie might be too weak for this. Both of them might break a bone from this. But the risk carries too much of a rush for Tanya to resist. She closes her eyes, and sinks further into Rosie’s hold. 

Her neck tilts back towards the floor, and she can feel every muscle in her back where Rosie’s hands are supporting her. She’s flushed head to toe, her blood nipping at her everywhere: and she will hold this final note until the next ice age, if it keeps her in this position. Keeping herself as balanced as possible, she brings her right hand, microphone attached, up to her signature pose for the final note. Her arm locks over Rosie’s, seamlessly entwining them and pulling Tanya even closer. 

“'Cause somewhere in the crowd...  
There’s you…”

Tanya never sung with her head back before, and it’s difficult, and she's fighting for it; but she isn’t afraid of a challenge. Not when it kept her deliriously free from gravity and close to Rosie. But too quickly she feels her air running low. Pulling on her abs hard, she bring herself up and finds Rosie looking down at her, brown eyes wide and arms shaking. Stumbling out of the pose, Tanya and Rosie untangle themselves and belatedly realize that the crowd is roaring, stamping their feet, yelling, and clapping as loud as she's ever heard them. 

Automatically, they link hands quickly to face the audience and bow.

As a song, it’s a hit. As a performance, it’s a rush Tanya has craved and feared she’d never feel again. Quickly, Tanya gestures to Harry and Abba, thanking them for their contributions. The road of the crowd shifts to rush over her companions, and Tanya takes the opportunity to whisper into Rosie's ear. 

Rosie jumps.

“Let’s go,” Tanya says, tilting her head.

“Be polite,” Rosie counters, grabbing the microphone. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve been The Dynamos! That’s been- I’m sorry dear, who are you?- that’s been Harry on the guitar, and ABBA with the impromptu backup! We’d love to jam with you again sometime! But if you’ll excuse us now, we have to go. Have a good night, everyone!” 

Rosie’s crisp, friendly tones leave the bar patrons appeased. Tanya had almost forgotten that the shortest member was also the best at managing the crowd. 

“Now, we can go,” Rosie says, nodding at Tanya.

A little dazed, she follows Rosie out into the street.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated G.

The cool night air feels exquisite after the heat of the bar. The street’s mostly deserted, the late hour marking the pavement as belonging only to the patrons of the pubs.

“My apartment is 2 blocks away. If you’re staying?” 

Tanya breaks the silence quickly with the question she’s most afraid to ask. 

Rosie is running her hand over her cropped hair. But she quips back instantly. 

“Say that to all the boys?”

“Yes, but they deserve it.” 

Tanya only manages a half-smile, but the familiar banter is another sigh of relief. A brisk fall wind ushers her legs into motion, and Rosie keeps pace alongside her as they head down the block. 

"She's okay now," Rosie says. "My grandmother."

"I'm glad," Tanya replies. 

More awkward silence. The wind is picking up, and Tanya shivers a bit, crossing her arms. Spandex was alright, but not the best in autumn in Glasgow. Although she did appreciate that it kept most of her body covered. 

“That song was fantastic,” interrupts Rosie as they cross the street. “When did you write it?” 

Tanya half-smiles. “I would never have worked on a song without you and Donna. I’ve been singing covers. What happened tonight…that just poured out when I saw you,” she admits. 

“You haven’t been writing?” Rosie sounds worried. “But you’ve been singing, I know you have…”

“Covers. I couldn’t be us with just me.” Tanya knows the bitter note in her voice won’t fly by unnoticed. And she’s right. Rosie’s smile disappears in the passing light of the streetlamp. 

“I didn’t want to go to Wales, Tanya,” Rosie says. “I had to go. Wait no, that’s not right I did want to go- it’s my grandmother, for goodness sake, and I love her- but what I mean is that…losing Donna and leaving you. You can’t think I wanted that.”

Tanya feels a bittersweet swoop in her stomach. 

“Of course not. But…Rosie, why didn’t you call me?” 

Tanya’s voice, so strong until now, breaks as the sadness she's been holding at bay soars out of her, seeking its answer at the source. They're almost to her apartment, so as much as she wants to sit down on a bench and just cry, she keeps walking. 

But Rosie is silent. Tanya feels her height ebbing away from her. Feels small. She falters walking and leans against the iron fence of the alley next to her apartment. 

“This past year was someone taking sandpaper over my heart,” Rosie admits softly. She looks equally fatigued in the darkness, standing in front of Tanya. 

“Can we go inside” she asks after a minute. Her hands are shoved in her pockets and Tanya wonders if she’ll be too much of a coward to tell Tanya the truth. If Tanya will, in the end, be sacrificed for something she doesn't understand. Tanya feels her stomach roil with the idea that Rosie could run and she'd never know what happened to them. She wants to stay on the bench and wait for Donna to come get them. But Donna isn't here to mediate now. And Tanya's nerves aren't going to keep her from giving Rosie, the woman who just held in her in her arms and made her feel like the sun was shielding her from the night, a chance. She can’t make Rosie talk. But she can give her the opportunity to explain.

“Come on in,” she says, pushing off the gate and unlocking it. Her boots wobble slightly on the rough stones that lead down to her apartment. She hates it, really. She prefers being close to the roof, they had been at uni; but all Glasgow had offered her was space below ground. She unlocks the door and flips on the light switch.

Her apartment pops into view. Its spartan. She’s turned her skirt from Greece into a wall tapestry over her bed- cried under it a fair amount of times, too- but otherwise had kept the apartment as it was.

“Oh,” Rosie says, taking it in with surprise. The apartment holds none of Tanya’s usual flourishes, and Tanya can see she's caught Rosie off-guard. Well, Rosie might as well know why she living like this, and sooner rather than any later than it already was.

“I thought you were happy without me.” Tanya releases the words in a rush, moving behind Rosie to relock the door. She walks into the kitchenette to find the kettle without looking into Rosie’s eyes. “Why?” she continues. “Why didn’t you call me?” 

When Tanya looks back at her, Rosie is hugging her arms around herself, like a leaf trying to stay on a tree in a storm. “Promise me that you won’t hate me.” Rosie’s standing in the same spot, looking at the skirt-turned-tapestry. 

“Never,” Tanya says. “I’ve already promised Donna not to, whatever this is about, and you know Donna is my bible.” And she means it. She reaches for the kettle and fills it with water. 

“What did Donna say?” Rosie sounds terrified.

Tanya feels sick to her stomach. 

“Please, Rosie. I can’t take this. You’ve left me for a year, Donna says it’s fine, somehow, she won’t say why. But I won’t hate you, I’m just so angry at you, and hurt-” Tanya breaks off. 

“Please! Tell me!” she chokes out, letting the kettle clang down on the stove's electric burner. She leans against the counter, starring at it rather than the frozen red-head in her living room.

Rosie replies in a voice devoid of any emotion. 

“I- like you.”

Tanya doesn't move. She hears a soft pad of feet on the carpet and guesses that Rosie has gone to sit on the chair next to the door. Outside, Tanya hears a gust of wind careen down the avenue. A crack of a branch. 

And the lights go out.

—


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated G.

Tanya has no control over her breathing now. Whatever she learned or thought she knew has taken a holiday. 

She knows what it means. Rosie knows she knows, since one night in their sophomore year Donna had sat them down nervously and informed them that she liked both boys and girls, and hoped they would still be friends.

Well of course they were still friends, they’d assured Donna. The news had come as a shock, but a gentle one: like when a tree changes color overnight only to look even lovelier in reds and oranges than it did in greens. 

Standing here now in the lightless apartment, the news that Rosie is gay has the same effect. Tanya feels fine. But she’s losing her words as time passes, because it's the first time she's been caught unawares when someone has a crush on her, and it's a woman, and it's Rosie. And it's a Rosie that blurts out that she has a crush on her after having disappearing for months, as if she hadn’t care about Tanya one bit, and Tanya can’t seem to make her brain work. 

“Tea is on hold.”

They’re the only words she can utter to break the silence. But she knows it’s unfair to leave the "I like you" hanging like frost on the window, so she adds the next sentence rapidly. “We’re still friends.” She throws her hands up, unsure what else to say or do, and turns around. 

A shaky exhale and inhale comes from Rosie. “Okay.” The reply is heaved into the air like vomit, and friend is looking at the floor as though she needs it to breathe. 

Tanya winces. Running her hands across the cabinet drawer, her fingers find her match box and a candle. She lights it, then she takes a step forward, feeling as though the next step will be onto glass. Rosie likes her. But Rosie left her. But Rosie likes her… 

When she reaches the chair, Rosie’s small form is shaking a bit. Tanya hates to see her like this. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re having a power outage. You’re not staying in that chair all night. Take my hand.”

Instead, Rosie acts as though Tanya hasn't spoken.

“Music to me- it’s fun. I enjoy the people it’s lead me to. But I don’t need it to be happy. Music to Donna- that’s her blood. And when you’re born into something, you never worry about where it takes you. But music to you…” 

Tanya sees Rosie glances at Tanya quickly but turn away as if burned. 

“You chose music. When you choose a thing, you won’t live without it.”

Tanya is trying to follow along. But one minute Rosie likes her and the next Rosie is giving a thesis on the joys of music, and Tanya is pretty certain they need to talk about her crush on her first. 

“Rosie, I want to go sit with you on the bed and talk about this. Please?” 

Rosie continues, sounding further deflated. “You don't need me, Tanya. Just my contribution to the music, the third member of a trio. I wanted you to need me for me. But I know I’m…disposable” Rosie suggests, in a hideous whisper that reminds Tanya of wind in a graveyard. “That’s why I knew not to tell you that I liked you. Not to call,” Rosie finishes, dropping her head and looking at the floor. "I thought you'd find someone else. Or be fine on your own." 

“Disposable?” Tanya's voice reminds herself of drowning. “I couldn’t perform without you and Donna! I’d get on stage and I’d sing a few songs and at the end of it I’d feel absolutely nothing. I was so flat inside I’m surprised I didn’t turn two-dimensional.” 

Rosie continues to stare down at the floor.

“Jesus Christ, Mulligan! If all I wanted were two back-up singers, don’t you think I could have talked two people into tagging along? Why do you think I was out there alone instead? You think I think you’re just a body to harmonize with? What am I, a musical John- Ow!” 

Rosie looks up, eyes wide with concern. 

The candle’s wax is melting quickly. Tanya’s done standing here with a melting candle when the flashlight is feet mere away. She decides remind Rosie that whoever she thinks Tanya is, the real Tanya is a tall, bossy, caring bitch. 

“My fingers are burning. For the love of god, please stand up and follow me so I can get the bloody flashlight turned on and we can sit down and finish this conversation!” she snaps, slapping Rosie’s knee for emphasis. 

Rosie stands up. 

Tanya walks the two of them the remaining steps to her bed under the tapestry. Pushing down on Rosie’s shoulders gently, she deposits Rosie on the edge of the bed. 

“Hold the candle, mind the wax” she orders, and passes the light. Then she drops to the floor and continues to inch around the perimeter on her hands and knees, knowing the flashlight is down under the bed somewhere. 

“Once we weren’t a trio, you wouldn’t have stayed friends with me. I just ended it first,” comes Rosie’s voice.

“Oh yes,” Tanya agrees flatly with the hyperbole. “Why would such a talented diva as I need a supportive, witty friend like you?”

Tanya rolls onto her back and sticks a leg under the bed. The flashlight had to be here. 

“Friend. You’d never have...liked me liked me. And I don’t want to just be friends, Tanya” Rosie says, sounding pained. 

Tanya shakes her head from under the bed and gets an instant headache.

“How dare you insult yourself like that? I called Wales; you never picked up. But I missed you so much that you single-handedly upped my alcohol intake an extra bottle a week, you tiny idiot,” she hisses loudly. And bangs her head again under the bed. 

But there- a cold metal bar brushes her fingertips. Tanya has the flashlight in her hand at last! She crawls out, flips on the flashlight, and sees Rosie trying to get a grip on her emotions. Her chest rises and falls, torso hunched, lips pressing together.

“You’re such an idiot,” she continues her last thought, pointing the beam directly in Rosie’s eyes. Rosie flinches, and blows out the candle. The smoke makes her cough. 

Good, you deserve that a little, Tanya thinks. Rosie's logic was so convoluted it was as if she'd stopped thinking clearly the moment she fell for Tanya. Not an entirely atypical reaction, but Tanya expected a little better from a Dynamo. 

“I love singing. I don't love it more than you. Not enough to…blame you over performing a tremendous act of kindness in going to care for your grandmother, and certainly not enough to forget that I love you for being my friend, not just a nice set of pipes. Not enough to run away from when you say you like me.”

Tanya shivers slightly at her own wording, knowing that Rosie’s proclamation just minutes ago is still hanging unanswered in the air. Her friend’s cheeks are glistening. The pixie cut frames her face so that all Donna sees are Rosie’s tears, and she wants them to go away.

“I really missed you,” she adds, fervently, and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“I missed you too,” Rosie admits. In the quiet lull, she hears Rosy breathing more unevenly. She hears the curses of a few of her neighbors, returning home in the darkness. And she hears her own heartbeat as she inhales and smells a new scent in her apartment. A pleasant, sweet scent that means Rosie has worn her violet perfume. 

Tanya’s heart beats faster the more she breaths in, and she considers why. She thinks about the bar. About how she felt taking Rosie’s hand. Seeing her pale, small face again. Being held in her arms, dipped backward… admiring the short red hair in the lamplight on the walk home…Was she feeling jittery now because she was going to tell her best friend she didn’t like her? Or was she getting butterflies for another reason? 

Tanya slides next to Rosie.

“You were unfair to me. For months,” she says firmly. “I agree with Donna that I don’t hate you for it.”

Tanya places her hand on Rosie’s shoulder in the darkness. Rosie pulls away, so Tanya just continues to speak. 

“I agree with Donna too, who happened to mention to me on multiple occasions that I am an obnoxious narcissist and for most of college and I appeared to take you for granted; so I am apologizing right now for that. For giving you the impression that I was using you for music, and that our friendship did not mean to me what it does.” 

“What does it mean, to you?” Rosie's voice is wistful again.

Tanya's chest is pounding. From the moment she’d seen Rosie again tonight, every glance at her friend had revealed something else that made her grew warm inside. The curve of her neck; the softness in her eyes; the way she sat on the bed with her knees tucked under her. The way she wants to dive into the smell of her perfume and hold Rosie's hand. She knows, know that she’s ready to face it, what her body is telling her. 

So Tanya uses her free hand to turn the flashlight at an angle to illuminate her profile, heart beating faster than she thought possible and her blood causing storms in her veins. 

“It means that I think I like you, too,” she says on a rapid exhale, trying to sound casual and confident. 

Then she flicks the flashlight onto the center of the bed, letting its light illuminate the top of the bed but leaving her in shadow.

\--


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated T.

As her eyes adjust to the change in light, she takes in what her words have done to her friend. Rosie is so still that she looks like she’s barely breathing. 

Tanya lets the last of what's been left unsaid race out of her. 

“Every damn day I went to tell you something and you weren’t there. I was so hurt, every day. You are being granted one chance to make this up to me,” she holds up a finger towards the ceiling “and that chance is by you ceasing to be a fool, and starting...to be a slut,” she adds with a faintly predatory spin, hoping her outrageous wording will break through whatever barrier Rosie is trying to put up between herself and Tanya. 

“Tanya!” Rosie cries out, jumping slightly at the final word and meeting her eyes again at last. 

Tanya grins. Success. It was nice to tease her friend again. 

“That was mean!” Rose scolds. 

Tanya shrugs. “Well, are you done thinking I’m some sort of heartless singing automaton now?”

Rosie takes a deep breath, studying Tanya. In the dim light, her pale sweater pooling around her, eyes big and dark, Tanya thinks she looks like a selkie: a beautiful creature come from the sea, only to disappear again when you least expect it. 

“You mean it,” Rosie says, cautiously. “That you like me?” 

Tanya nods. She can tell from Rosie’s tone that she's the only one of them who does, and braces for an interrogation.

“Hm. When did you know?” Rosie asks. Her face is downturned, as though expecting Tanya to say ‘Oh I don’t, never mind’ at any moment. 

“When did you?” Tanya deflects. She's curious. 

Rosie shrugs and taps her fingers on the bed. “Junior year, maybe. Last day of school, for sure.” She smiles briefly at Tanya. “When Donna kissed you, I felt so jealous only the river cooled me down.” 

Tanya raises her eyebrows. But Rosie is right. Crashing graduation in costume and leaping into song had been one of their best days. Such a fun, silly thing to do. Except...when Donna had kissed her, so, so close to her mouth, she hadn’t been entirely immune. She’d wondered; she’d felt. And after the river, climbing out, seeing Rosie- her usually overly covered form revealed by the water, fabric clinging- hadn’t been bad either. Not that she’d starred, of course. 

Tanya’s eyes widen and she coughs. She’s starting to suspect that her next phone call with Donna is going to be very interesting: and is going to make her feel very stupid. 

“Why do you think that you like me, Tanya?” Rosie challenges, interrupting her moment of self-reflection. “When did you know?” 

“Tonight.” Tanya answers immediately. “But I wasn't paying attention until I didn’t see you anymore.” 

Rosie nods, a slight curl to her lip. “Okay.” 

But it sounds like "Our Friendship: The End." Tanya can tell that some more hopeful part of Rosie had wanted a different answer- that Tanya has always felt as she does tonight. But the truth was precious to Tanya. And from her point of view, the fact that they’d discovered an attraction at different points in time didn’t seem important. It wasn't lessening her emotions. 

They sit still on the bed. 

Tanya sighs and stretches, hating the tension and the quiet. Time to fall back on old habits in the pursuit of better ones. She leans back on the bed until she’s fully reclined.

“Rosie?” she asks. Her voice isn’t as strong as she’s imagined. 

“I’m sorry, Tanya.” Rosie says, simply, at last sounding every inch her friend. But Tanya feels her heart recoil at Rosie’s apology. She’s sorry for what? For leaving her? For liking her? She closes her eyes. Whatever happens, she needs Rosie as her friend back, first. 

“I accept your apology for cutting me out because of your...gay distress. But I do not accept any apology for liking me, because I’m gorgeous and it’s what I deserve,” she finishes boldly. "Also if you dare to stop liking me just because I didn't swoon the first time I saw you I will throw you into another river," she threatens. 

"Lastly," Tanya's brain is screaming at her now, but her mouth, as usual, leaps ahead without permission. “while your height and mine is going to be awkward at first, I want to be up front and say that I visually enjoy you and your voice turns me on.” 

“I can’t believe you like me. I'm a potato,” Rosie mumbles, a faint laugh in her voice, but that voice is coming closer to Tanya. She lefts her head. 

Rosie has flipped onto her hands and knees and is crawling up the bed toward her. 

“No,” Tanya protests softly. Maybe if Rosie looks her in the eyes, she’ll know. She tries her best to let her dace say what she can't quite spit out. Rosie is a lot more to her. She's clever, she's caring, she's bossy, she's radiant. She's talented and dependable, and she liked Tanya despite her flaws. Tanya has always seen the best in her friend, and now she wants to explore this new need to be held close in her surprisingly strong arms. 

“Believe me,” Tanya says, as Rosie pauses over her. She's right over Tanya's face now, and Tanya is thrilled. 

“Donna’s the one you should like-” Rosie suggests, still sounding unswayed, as if Tanya's attraction is a science experiment and she's giving a report on it. 

“Donna" Tanya puts heavy inflection on the name, "never made me feel like my vagina was going to catch fire when she held me.” Tanya can’t help herself from being direct with her physical urges. And with her blood refusing to settle, she won’t deny it any further. 

Rosie is frozen again. Then…

“I gave you many, many chances to back out,” Rosie says in a long-suffering tone, before bending down and kissing Tanya.

She kisses her firmly on the cheek.

“Are you kidding me!” Tanya screeches and pushes up on her elbows, head knocking painfully against Rosie's. "Ouch!" Tanya's dignity will never recover from this. A kiss in the cheek, when she knows she looks completely irresistible in purple spandex with fringe and thigh-high boots? 

“Tanya don’t be an idiot,” Rosie glares, rubbing her head. “Just because I have a crush on you, and I stopped talking to you, and I showed up and sang with you at a bar- it doesn’t mean- you don’t- you’re…confused.” Rosie puts her face in both hands, a helpless expression on her face.

“I’m confused? No, Rosie: when I look at my friend and think to myself, my god, my heart is turning over in my chest, wow, this woman looks beautiful, gosh, if I had the chance how would it will feel to put my hands in her hair…” 

That's an idea. Tanya sits up and puts her hand on Rosie’s head and lightly runs her fingers amongst the short strands. 

“I don’t think that’s confusing. Just unexpected,” she continues. 

The feeling of Rosie’s hair under her fingers had been strategic, aimed at convincing Rosie; but now it has Tanya losing control instead. Reverse Waterloo. Napoleon is winning this time. Rosie is so close, when they sit like this. In the cool apartment, her warmth is radiating out and into Tanya’s bones. 

“Rosie,” she says, her voice a mess. Lost between low and high, it's as out-of-tune as she’d ever sounded. Words aren't what she needs right now. Putting her hands around Rosie’s waist, she leans back, imitating their final pose at the bar. 

Rosie groans, but holds onto Tanya instead of dropping her. And she isn't looking away. So Tanya uses her last ounce of control as she stares Rosie right in the eyes. They look frightened, torn between lust and tears. Tanya drops her voice into her lowest register. 

“Kiss me,” she orders. 

Then she drops her neck back, eyes fluttering closed. The feeling of being almost upside down, supported in Rosie’s arms, is blissful. Heavenly. And then, gone almost immediately as she feels Rosie pulls her torso up and flush against her. Tanya reluctantly brings her neck up to see why, briefly worried that Rosie is going to tell her goodbye; only to find Rosie’s lips pushing down against her own.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated M.

\--

With Rosie’s tongue in her mouth, Tanya’s blood is beyond her control. It’s jumbled and reeling, darting into every corner of her body as Rosie’s hand press firmly into her back. Her lips are soft, chapped, warm, her tongue licking the roof of her mouth fleetingly in-between swallows. Tanya quickly can’t breathe and comes up for air. 

She gasps as she leans back on her elbows, panting. Oh, she definitely likes Rosie. Her feelings for Rosie have just ballooned into something gigantic that she’s never felt before. It’s a wild mix of desire and absolute peace, a combination that makes her feel light-headed.

She overrides the desire to breathe normally and lays back fully on the bed. “Rosie, to update? I absolutely like you.” She uses her most devastating register shamelessly. 

Rosie climbs on top of her.

“That’s good. Since it’s too late now for me not to like you, too,” Rosie comments, sounding much more in control than she had before their kiss. Sounding much more like the Rosie that she'd run around Greece with, getting into trouble. That Rosie should be so unaffected by the kiss was unfair, Tanya reflects. Although as Rosie begins to press her pelvis against Tanya, she stops minding. 

“God,” she cries out, gasping for air again, finding herself drenched in sweat and realizing her spandex jumpsuit is the last thing she needs on her body right now. Rosie, still in jeans and sweater, doesn’t appear to be having any of the same problems. Was she even sweating? Tanya puts a hand on Rosie’s forehead and is relieved to find sweat on her fingers, although her skin was cool. 

“We need to put other clothes on,” Tanya says, before kissing Rosie again. 

Rosie pauses their kiss.

“Such as?” she asks, incredulously.

“I want out of this,” Tanya says, pinching the spandex on her arm and letting it snap against her skin. 

Rosie gets off of her. 

“Fine,” she says. “But if you take too long changing I’m going to be sick. I’ve never felt so much at once in my life,” she says calmly, sitting primly on the edge of the bed. 

Tanya rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’m the diva” she scoffs. She puts her feet on the floor, kicking the flashlight into a spin as she does so. It must have fallen off the bed at some point. Well, let it stay there.

She peels off her suit, a painful experience now that she's molded to it to her body from the heat of the mattress, and drops it to the floor. Reaching next to the bed, she opens a drawer and yanks a t-shirt out. Unclasping her bra, she throws the t-shirt over her head. 

Reaching into the drawer again, she finds a nightgown. Holding it and sitting on the bed again, she coughs. “Er, Rosie.” She holds out the nightgown. 

Rosie turns to look at her. “Oh, thanks.” 

Tanya turns politely and hears Rosie unzipping her jeans, the rustle of fabric suggesting she’s putting on the nightgown Tanya gave her. 

“Okay,” Rosie says after a moment. “Tanya can you turn the light off, first?” 

Tanya clicks off the flashlight to comply. An odd time for Rosie to be shy. 

“Come back to bed,” Rosie suggests, and Tanya rolls back towards the center of the matters. 

Rosie had not put the nightgown on. 

Instead, the slightly cool flesh of Rosie’s stomach is against her arm, and Tanya’s fingers can feel her thigh. 

“Are you naked?” Tanya can’t see in the sudden darkness. Her voice sounds like she's been smoking since she was born. 

“I kept the basics on, but I’m not interested in putting any more layers between us,” Rosie replies smoothly. 

This shady lady, Tanya thinks, wonderingly. She's impressed. 

“To be up front, as you say: I’m glad we’re friends again, Tanya. I'm so happy I could cry over it. I accept your apology. I never knew how we stood, half the time I though of myself more Donna's friend than yours." She continues, "But I also want to be crystal clear that I’ve also spent the last ten months as a practical nun in Wales agonizing over my feelings for you in vivd daydreams about you, and your legs, and your ability to make me wish you'd throw me against a wall and ravage me."

Tanya's eyebrows shoot up and she takes a sharp breath. 

"So, now that you’ve told me that you like me, I have every intention of spending tonight making you cry out my name so loudly and often that by morning you’ll be vowing to adopt ten children with me. We'll raise them in the mountains and I’ll push you around in a wheelchair with a martini holder when we’re old and gray- well, not gray, you'll still be brunette and I'll bleach the greys blonde,” she adds, as an afterthought. 

Tanya has heard Rosie be melodramatic about a crush before. But she hadn’t know that combined with Rosie’s bare skin in the dark the melodrama of it all would have an absolutely devastating effect on her. 

She slides down Rosie’s body, kissing against it as she goes, until she finds fabric. Then she uses her arms to reach up and pin Rosie’s arms down on the mattress. 

“Glad we’re talking again,” she says, taking care that her breath is aimed at a more sensitive part of Rosie’s anatomy. "Say that to all the girls?" 

“Just the ones that won't shut up,” squeaks out Rosie. Just to needle her, Tanya keeps talking. 

“So when you didn't take my calls…was it that you didn’t want to have my voice turn you on over the phone?” she teases, licking against Rosie’s thigh.

“It's nothing to do with the phone. Your voice always turns me on,” Rosie objects. “You walk into a room like you could fuck everyone in it and not so much as whimper.” 

“You walk into a room like you could fuck everyone in it and not be even a little satisfied,” Tanya tosses back, purring.

“Well, what happens if we fuck one another,” Rosie says, point-blank. She squeezes her thighs against Tanya’s head. 

Tanya loves her no-nonsense woman. 

“Let’s find out.”

\- The End


End file.
